Five Things about My Daddy
by Eledgy
Summary: A stand-alone for Father's Day, but taking place in the Variations on a Theme of Luke AU. (There's an explanatory author's note within, for those who've not read the longer story). Luke and Robbie spend the day together, and talk-a lot!


_Author's Note_: This is a stand-alone story, for **fishbag's** Father's Day challenge, that takes place in the _**Variations on a Theme of Luke**_ universe, my WIP.

If you haven't read that, what you need to know is that it's a pre-series AU in which Luke returns to Stars Hollow in April of 1992, after being away for five years. He left Stars Hillow to be with Rachel, who got pregnant just after Luke's father's death. They married, their son Robbie was born, and they have been together since, travelling thoughout the U.S., Europe, Africa and Brazil as Rachel worked. When _that_ story opens, Luke has returned to get Robbie (four going on five) settled and ready to begin kindergarten in the fall, as well as to settle his father's affairs and to start a business of his own. At the time of _this_ story, Luke and Robbie are living above the diner, and Rachel and Luke have decided to get divorced. Lorelai and Luke are friends, but not (yet!) romantically involved.

For those of you who have been reading the longer story, this would take place during **Chapter 23 (Untangling)**—a few days _after_ Luke gets word on the house sale, and a few days days _before_ the final divorce meeting.

And for those of you who have been wishing for more Robbie-this should give you a nice little fix!

Thanks to **DFC** for being so encouraging, as always, and for the super-quick beta.

* * *

**Five Things about My Daddy**

_**Sunday, June 21, 1992**_

"Hi Daddy."

Luke turned from the mixing bowl and watched his sleepy son head from his bed to the bathroom. "Morning buddy," he replied. Now that Robbie was awake, Luke turned to the stove to heat up the griddle.

A few minutes later Robbie padded over barefoot from the bathroom and leaned against Luke's legs. "Pancakes?" he asked hopefully.

"Pancakes." Luke assured him.

"Banana?"

"Nope – I've got strawberries and blueberries because they're in season right now. Which do you want?"

"Can I have both?"

"Both in each pancake, or some with just strawberries and some with just blueberries?" He glanced down at Robbie, who had a slight frown on his face as he tried to decide. "How about I make a mix of all three kinds?" Luke suggested. "Yes! Thanks Daddy."

"Okay. Can you get the syrup and some milk out?"

Robbie headed over to do these tasks. "What are we doing today, Daddy?"

"Well, I don't know. Aren't you supposed to tell me?"

Robbie frowned again. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, what day is today?"

"Father's Day! I forgot! I forgot your presents!" And he was off, running towards his milk crate 'dresser' to gather up the packages he had carefully carried home from preschool on Friday.

"Here Daddy!"

"Put them on the table. Breakfast first, presents second."

"Aw, like Christmas?"

"Exactly." Luke placed two plates on the table, then the platter of pancakes in between them. "Get napkins and silverware for us, little guy."

Robbie set the places, practically dancing in his excitement and impatience. Luke grabbed the forgotten milk and syrup himself, poured two glasses, and finally they sat down.

Robbie ate hungrily for a few minutes, then stopped for a gulp of milk. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"How come we've never had Father's Day before? Is it only in Stars Hollow?"

Luke smiled. "No – it's definitely an all of America thing. All over America, Hallmark and the useless gift industry are cashing in," he noted sardonically.

Robbie looked at him intently. "You don't like Father's Day?"

"What? No, I love Father's Day. I just don't like how companies take a simple, nice idea, and try and turn it into a money-making scheme. But, that is the American Way."

"They don't have Father's Day in Italy? Or Brazil?" Robbie asked.

"I think they do. I think in Italy it's on the same day as a religious holiday, some Saint's Day. I remember we had a big dinner that day, in honor of all the fathers. You were only three, so you probably don't remember. And Mommy was away, I think, so nobody made a big deal out of a gift or anything."

"Did you have Father's Day when you were little?"

"Oh, sure."

"What did you do?"

"Same thing as you – gave my dad a gift we made in school, ate breakfast, did fun things."

"Like what?"

"Like fishing, baseball, picnics… One time, we all went to Boston to see the Red Sox play, then we had dinner at a Chinese restaurant." Luke looked into the distance for a moment, remembering that day, that year – just before his mom got sick. "That sounds fun," Robbie said.

"It was." Luke shook his head slightly, clearing it of the memories for now. "Finish up your pancakes, buddy. Do you want more milk?"

"Yes please. Then presents."

"Then presents," Luke agreed.

A few minutes later, the table cleared, Robbie handed Luke his first gift, a bulky object.

"I like the wrapping paper," Luke commented.

"I picked the comics from the pile of newspapers Mrs. Allen brought in – I wanted it to be colorful."

"Great choice- I love the funny pages." Luke continued peeling away the layers of newsprint and tape, finally revealing a painted clay object.

"It's my handprint!" Robbie announced, before Luke could say anything.

"This is great, bud. I made one just like this for my dad, when I was little."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. Thank you." Luke put his arm around Robbie and squeezed his shoulders.

"My hand fits right in. It felt cold and squishy when we did it, but then we left them to dry over the whole weekend – last weekend – and then we got to decorate them."

"I see. Blue and yellow, good colors."

"Blue is your favorite color, and yellow is mine." Robbie explained.

"I thought green was your favorite color?"

"Just for lollipops, Daddy. Yellow for everything else. And I like blue too, like you. And red – like cabooses."

"Well, I love it. It will let me always remember how your hand was as a little boy, even when you're all grown up."

"Did Grandpa William like to look at his, even after you got grown up?"

"Well..." Luke hesitated for a moment. "I made it for him, but I never actually got to give it to him."

"Why not?"

"Because of stupid Bootsy."

"Who's Bootsy?"

"You know, Bootsy who runs the newsstand? He was my fr…in my class, when we were little. He broke it."

"Why?"

"Oh, well, it's a long story. We got in a fight…and, my handprint got broken."

"Were you sad?"

"I was. And mad. The teacher said I could make a new one, but Father's Day was only two days away so I said no."

"Did you cry?" Robbie asked.

"A little bit, when I got home."

"Did your dad make you feel better?"

"My mom did, 'cause she was the one who picked me up every day. She knew as soon as she saw my face that I was upset about something, so when we got home she got me to tell her the story."

"Did she make you feel better?"

"She did – and then when I calmed down, she told me she'd help me make a card, or a new project, when I was ready."

"Did you?"

"Yes, the next day I made a card. She traced around my hand, and then helped me cut it out of the paper, and write a message inside."

"Did your daddy like it?"

"He did. He got a big smile on his face when he opened it."

"Just like you did." Robbie smiled in satisfaction, and leaned against Luke. "Were you four, like me?"

"Six, I think. It was first grade."

"And how old was your daddy then?"

"Hmm...he was 30 when I was born, so, 36."

"And he took care of you, like you take care of me?"

"Yup."

"Did he cook for you?"

"Not too much. Mostly my mom cooked. But he made breakfast, on Sundays. Really good pancakes, or waffles, or french toast."

"Is that how you learned to cook breakfast?"

"Yup. I used to help him, while we let my mom sleep a little late, and Liz watched TV."

"How did you learn to cook everything else?"

"From my mom, a little, before she died. Then mostly on my own, from her cookbooks. And later, when I worked at Buddy and Maisie's restaurant, I learned a lot more stuff."

Robbie nodded. "I like helping you cook."

"I like having you help me cook. Hey, do I see another present?" Luke asked.

"Oh, yes, here!" Robbie handed Luke the other comic-strip wrapped package, this time a flat one.

"Mrs. Allen helped me with that one. She knew how to fold a big piece of paper into an envelope."

"Teachers are smart like that." Luke finished unwrapping to find a drawing, presumably of him, attached to a colored piece of oak tag. A second piece of paper was pasted underneath, sporting five sentences in neat teacher printing.

"It's just like the ones we made for the mommies on Mother's Day. But this is 'Five Things about My Daddy.' "

"I see."

"Read them."

Luke cleared his throat. "Number one: My Daddy makes me good things to eat. Number two: My Daddy helps me if I get hurt or sad. Number three: My Daddy plays with me. Number four: My Daddy reads books with me. Number five: My Daddy loves me."

"I told all of those things to Mrs. Allen, and she wrote them down for me."

"I see that. Those are great, all five of them. Thank you, Robbie."

"You're welcome. Can we hang it up near my bed, next to the one I made for Mommy? I like to look at it before I go to sleep."

"Sure, we can do that after we clean up and get dressed. Then what do you want to after that?"

"Can we go on a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Yeah, like we used to in Brazil, and Italy. Remember? A 'see what we see' walk?"

"Sure, I remember. That sounds fun. Do you want to walk around here, around Stars Hollow?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. Better get cleaned up."

* * *

About half an hour later, they stood in front of the diner, set to go.

"Okay, buddy, pick a direction."

"No, you should pick. It's Father's Day, and you're the father."

"How about we pick together?"

"The spinny way?" Robbie asked hopefully.

Luke sighed. "Aren't you too big for that?"

"Nope."

"Okay." Luke picked Robbie up in his arms, and Robbie pointed one arm outward.

"Three whole times, Daddy."

"I know, I know." Luke began to spin.

"… two, three. Stop!" They stopped, Robbie's hand pointed across the town square, in the general direction of the church and preschool. Robbie wiggled to get down, then grabbed Luke's hand. "Okay, here we go," he declared.

They headed across the square and past the church, Luke steering them towards Peach Street, knowing that it eventually turned into a quiet, narrow road through the woods outside of town.

It was a perfect June day. Warm, but not humid, with a light breeze that set the leaves-bright green and not yet wilted by the heat of summer-dancing.

"Have you ever been here before, Daddy?"

"Oh sure. I've been almost everywhere around Stars Hollow. My friends and I would explore all over, especially once we all got bikes."

"When can I learn to ride a bike?"

"Actually, I think you're almost ready. How about we get you a bike for your birthday?"

"Yes!" Robbie skipped ahead of Luke down the road.

They walked further, both quiet for a few minutes. Luke thought they might be getting near the sports fields, where Robbie would be starting camp tomorrow. He kept that in mind as a possible destination.

"Daddy, what was your dad like?"

"My dad was...really friendly. He loved talking to people, and helping them. He laughed a lot, and told jokes, and he was always busy. You're a lot like him, actually."

"Are you a lot like him?"

"In some ways. I like doing a lot of the same things, but I'm a more quiet person. More like my mom was."

"That's funny, a quiet person and a talkative person getting married."

"Yeah. But I think my dad liked that my mom was quiet. She helped calm him down, give him peace. And one of the things that I loved about my dad was that he never tried to push me to be friendly or talkative. He let me be quiet, and shy sometimes, as long as I was polite. Said that was just the way I was."

"I'm not shy."

"Not usually, no."

"And you let me friendly."

"Yup. That's just who you are."

"Is that why you're such good friends with Lorelai? Because she's so funny, and talkative?"

"Sure, I like that about her. But I also like Rory, and she's a little quieter."

They took turns kicking a stone down the road for a while, until a hard kick from Robbie sent it skittering into a muddy ditch.

"Do you miss your dad?"

"I do. Every day."

"Does it make you sad?"

"Sometimes. It sure makes me sad that he never met you. He would've loved you, and you him."

"Did he love Jess?"

"Oh yeah, he did. He loved to play with him, to try and get him to laugh. Jess was such a serious little guy, even as a baby."

"Where do you think he is now?"

"Jess?"

"No, your dad. Do you think he's in heaven?"

Luke paused. "Well, I'm not sure there is a specific place called heaven. I'm not sure what happens to people's spirits after they die. I don't know that anyone really knows for sure. But he was a good man, and I think that the good things he did and the love that he had for all of us, I feel that all around me. And around you."

"What happens to people's bodies after they die?" was Robbie's next question. "Well, a lot of people get buried in a cemetery, after they die."

"Did your dad? And mom?"

"Yes." Luke stopped for a moment, looking around to get his bearings. "Actually, we're not that far from the cemetery." He pointed. "I think that lane leads to the back of it. Do you want to go see their graves?"

"Is it scary?"

"No. It's nice. Lots of green grass, and flowers."

"No ghosts?"

"No ghosts," Luke assured him.

"Okay."

* * *

They ended up spending a while in the cemetery. They walked through from the back. Luke pointed out a few of the bigger, fancier graves he remembered from when he and his friends used to travel through, reading all the names and speculating on various violent and mysterious causes of death.

When they finally made it to the Danes area, Luke pointed out the four graves- his father's parents, and his mom and dad's.

"Why did your mom have four names?"

"Ellen Marie Sanborn Danes," Luke read. "Well, Ellen was her first name, Marie was her middle name. Sanborn was the family name she was born with, and then when she got married she took Danes as her new family name."

"Why isn't mommy Rachel Danes?"

"Nowadays some women choose to switch to their husband's name, some want to keep their own, and some add their husband's name to their own."

"Why don't men switch their names?"

"It's tradition, I guess. In the old days, men were considered in charge of the family, so everyone in the family took their name." Luke bent down and inspected the graves. "Here, let's clean these up a little."

Luke and Robbie worked together to brush off the dirt, and pull a few weeds. Luke placed a few rocks they had picked up along their walk, on the top of each of the graves.

"Why are you doing that, Daddy?"

"Just leaving a little symbol that we were here to visit."

There was a stone bench a few feet away from the foot of the graves. Luke sat for a minute, drawing Robbie to him. "Let's sit quietly for just a minute or two, and think peaceful thoughts," he suggested.

"Okay."

Luke took a deep breath, and released some of the tension he felt, some pent-up sadness. Robbie sat quietly, his attention soon focused on a small yellow butterfly flitting around the graves. He got up and began following it. Luke kept one eye on his son, and one on the expanse of familiar tombs, green grass, and trees lining the cemetery area. It was very peaceful here.

He glanced over at Robbie, who had lost interest in the butterfly and was now climbing up on another stone bench, then jumping off. Luke supposed it was a bit irreverent for him to be treating the cemetery like a playground, but as there was no one else around, and he was disinclined to either raise his voice or get up from his seat, he let it go.

He returned to his thoughts, until he heard Robbie call softly, "Daddy there's a bunny!"

Luke looked where Robbie was pointing, and saw the small brown bunny, up on its back legs and frozen except for quivering whiskers. From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Robbie start to slip off his perch. Robbie over-corrected and then fell off, catching his elbow on the bench on the way down. Luke was halfway to him by Robbie's first howl of pain.

"Let me see, let me see," Luke said, sitting on the bench and lifting Robbie off the ground and onto his lap.

"It hurts!" Robbie said, his howl now turned down to a whimper.

"Yeah, I know, you caught it good. Not too much blood though, just a scrape, really." Luke used the hem of his T-shirt to brush off the cut, and then pressed a different section of the bottom of the shirt against the scrape for a moment. "Here bud, hold your arm up over your head for a minute, that will help the bleeding stop."

Robbie raised his hands dutifully, also taking a moment to snuggle into Luke's chest and using it to wipe his tears.

"Where do you think the bunny went?" he asked.

"I think your howling scared it. He thought you were a wolf and ran away," Luke teased.

Robbie smiled. "I lost my balance."

"Yeah, you got distracted and forgot where you were perched. You gotta be careful when you're up on top of something, especially something made of stone."

"I will"

They headed home after that, walking a little more slowly, taking the main road into Stars Hollow.

* * *

After their morning adventures, the afternoon was quiet. Lunch was followed by a nap for Robbie that somehow turned into a nap for Luke as well.

Later, Robbie played with his cars and trucks while Luke read the Sunday paper. Soon bored with the news and features, he ended up down on the floor, allowing himself to get drawn into the complex world of crisscrossing highways, city skyscrapers, and sprawling farms that Robbie had been creating over the past few weeks.

Dinner and then another short walk around town, culminating in a Father's Day ice cream cone, brought them to the end of their long, mostly peaceful day. Bath and fresh PJs were followed by books on the couch, and then Luke declared it to be tucking-in time.

He sat on the edge of his son's bed, for one last round with his little chatterbox.

"I had fun with you today, Daddy. Did you have fun?"

"Yes. I had the best Father's Day possible."

"I like it when it's just us two, with no errands and no chores."

Luke chuckled. "Me too."

"What do you think Lorelai and Rory did today?"

"I think they were going to have Father's Day dinner with Lorelai's parents. Lorelai said they were coming to the Inn again."

"Oh. Do you think Rory got to call her daddy today?"

"I don't know, buddy."

"How about Jess, do you think he got to talk to his Dad today?"

"Maybe," Luke said, trying to keep any skepticism from his voice.

Robbie was quiet for a minute. "Mommy's calling me tomorrow night, right?"

"Right."

"Good." Robbie rolled onto his side, snuggling his head into his pillow, usually his final move before going to sleep.

"Good night, Daddy."

"Good night, Robbie. I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy."

Luke stroked his son's cheek with one finger, then smoothed back the curls from his forehead. Robbie's eyes fluttered but stayed close.

Luke turned and looked at the two drawings on Robbie's wall.

_Five Things about My Mommy_

My Mommy is a photographer.

My Mommy travels all over the world.

My Mommy has reddish, curly hair.

My Mommy calls me whenever she can.

My Mommy loves me.

_Five Things about My Daddy_

My Daddy makes me good things to eat.

My Daddy helps me if I get hurt or sad.

My Daddy plays with me.

My Daddy reads books with me.

My Daddy loves me.

Looking at the two lists side-by-side, it suddenly struck Luke that everything on Robbie's daddy list was about what Luke did in relation to Robby. He re-read the Mommy list. There, the first three things were just about Rachel, as an individual out in the world.

Maybe that should bother him, he thought, but it didn't. He felt pleased- proud, even-that Robbie saw Luke basically as an extension of himself. He figured that was as it should be -– that a well-cared for kid should feel that way.

He thought that back to when he was four and five, and was pretty sure his list would've been similar -– his thoughts about his mom being all about him, his dad's list commenting more on his dad as an individual. By the time he lost his mom, when he was 10, he was only just beginning to learn about who she was as a person, who she was when she wasn't being a mom. Who she'd been before kids.

An accountant. A member of the church choir.

He wondered what else he might have learned about her, given the chance.

Finally rising from the bed, he headed toward the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

He looked back over the peaceful day spent with his son. Robbie's list was a pretty good summary of their day, all told. He felt content, once again secure in his decision to come back to Stars Hollow, in spite of the divorce matters still swirling about them.

He looked ahead, and saw a life where he could spend a day like this one, just him and Robbie. (Or maybe some certain others, too, if he was honest). But also normal days, being a dad and being there for his son, but also being there for himself. Reclaiming his identity as a person, not just as a dad.

That's me, he thought. Not _just_ a dad, but somehow, always a dad.

He smiled, liking the way that sounded.

_The End_


End file.
